Category Archives: Craft & Skills

Mean Salvation

Every new author’s challenge is to learn to tell a story well and to do so with a passionate heart. There are reams of advice on the internet, in how-to-write books, from writers groups and at conventions, workshops and seminars. Knowing basic plot structure is quick to learn but how does one navigate character depth and writing with a passionate heart?

When I was starting out, I went to my first writers group meeting with a completed 100,000 word novel. Someone offered to read it for me. I was ecstatic. The reader had some valuable insights: 1) don’t let your characters be stupid. It sounds harsh but it wasn’t. Given the incident she was referring to it made perfect sense and it was an easy fix; 2) characters need to be consistent and logical; and 3) you must be mean, even cruel to your characters.

Permission to be mean??? I was both ecstatic and mortified. How could I embrace this? I don’t like conflict. Reading fairy tales as a kid, I was so relieved when the happy endings came – I wanted the conflict to be over so I could relish those sweet but short utopias. Yet, those words of permission filled me with relief – I no longer had to be nice, the peacemaker, making everyone happy somehow through their struggle. I was never so nice to my characters that they were wimpy and the story was without conflict but I hadn’t gone far enough.

Permission to be mean was permission to delve deep into a character’s psyche, to understand their deepest fears, anxieties and painful back story. It was about not feeling guilty because the characters I loved had to experience trouble and pain.

Understanding that it was my responsibility to look into a character’s deepest fears and to throw them into the pits of emotional hell and physical danger made me a better writer. When I now read the how-to books and columns, I understand they are challenging us to search for those emotional pits of hell within ourselves, to be honest enough so we can make our characters sweat through them. For example, this spring I took a one day workshop with Donald Maass based on his book Writing 21st Century Fiction: High Impact Techniques for Exceptional Storytelling. That workshop was like being in therapy. We were asked questions similar to ‘What is the most painful secret you have? Where can you make your character feel what you are feeling right now?’

It’s a mean salvation for a writer – as we dig deeper and challenge our characters and are mean to them emotionally and physically, we are challenging our inner selves and are digging deeper into our own psyches.

The advice I was given when I started out makes sense now – if I dig deep within myself to understand emotional truth, dig deep within my character (my character isn’t me and her emotional truth isn’t necessarily mine), if I dig deep into the emotional realities of life (and they can be cruel), if I let my characters experience what they need, then I will be true (and logical) to my characters and my readers will experience a satisfying emotional journey. The added bonus was that I could now more easily ramp up conflict and tension.

Mean salvation – that’s the best way I can describe that first advice. We all live it, we write it and in our hearts, we know it. My favorite books make me live through those dark, awkward and painful moments with a character and in the end I embrace their journey although not all endings are sweet. Their catharsis is my catharsis. Their pain is my pain. Their salvation is my salvation.

It’s not like the song lyrics “you’ve got to be cruel to be kind” it’s that we’ve got to be cruel to be real, to dig down deep and face what makes us and our characters emotionally real. It’s mean salvation.

The Editing Hit List

At Work
At Work

What cursed names do you reserve for your editor? We know you have them. We know you give them to us. And we don’t care. We actually kind of like it.

When you work with an editor for the first time, you’ll start to shed preconceived notions about the shape your story is in. Getting that MS back bleeding and red can be a shock. But, I swear, we only do it in self-defense. I want to help you and your MS avoid some of that unnecessary blood loss.

I see a lot of things I wish I didn’t. Every editor does. I’ve already spoken about how important it is to pay attention to your submission guidelines, and what industry standard formatting looks like, so here are a few other things on my hit list.

1. Single quotation marks.

I sometimes wish writers weren’t taught they existed. In fiction writing, the most common use you’ll have for single quotation marks is to indicate a quote within dialogue. Enclose the speaker’s dialogue in double quotation marks, then enclose the phrase they are quoting in single quotation marks. You nest them, with the double quotation marks on the outside.

“So this guy, he actually growls at me, his eyes turn red, and he tells me, ‘Give me a keg of beer.'”

Is that the only time you can use single quotation marks? No, outside fiction, it’s the convention in studies like linguistics, philosophy and theology to infer special meaning by enclosing some words in single quotation marks. They’re also used by the Associated Press for headlines.

Use double quotation marks for dialogue (obviously), around titles of short stories, magazine articles, and TV episode titles; they can be used as a style choice when you are writing a sentence and you want to refer to a word rather than use its meaning, as I will in the next item on the hit list.

Double quotation marks can also sometimes be used as scare quotes. I’m sure you’ve heard the term. All scare quotes do is indicate that a word is special in some way, usually a sarcastic or ironic author showing that he doesn’t believe or buy into the meaning.

And I see . . . hell, everybody sees double quotation marks used incorrectly in this way all the time. Check this out.

2. Mixing up “a” and “the.”

I see this more than a little. And I can see you shaking your head already. You totally don’t do that, that’s dumb. Well, not so fast, Speedy. I see it a lot for a reason.

These words infer very different things. Only use “the” when referring to something or someone that has already been introduced to your story, and “a” for something new to the story.

For example, when introducing a new element, like a big, slashy red pen, upon the first mention of that red pen, it is always, “a” red pen, not “the” red pen. “The” references a specific red pen, and since the red pen has never appeared nor been mentioned in your story thus far, the characters couldn’t possibly know to which red pen you were referring when you said “the red pen.” In this instance, it would be “a red pen.”

Thereafter, since the red pen has now been introduced, and your readers and your characters know about it, it would be “the red pen.”

3. Paragraph breaks.

Give them to us. New paragraphs are important for your readers. They tell when you’re switching time, place, topic or speaker, and they break the page up so it is not a solid block of words.

Don’t downplay the psychological impact of how the writing actually looks. It is intimidating and discouraging to see huge blocks of uninterrupted text, and you don’t want your reader to be discouraged before they even start to read, right?

Paragraphs create white space on a page and that white space provides a visual and mental break for readers — like coming up for air. New thought, new paragraph. It is often a good idea to separate lines of dialogue into new paragraphs; and the same goes for thoughts.

There are a few standard times to make a new paragraph:

a. when you start in on a new topic,
b. when a new person begins to speak,
c. when you skip to a new place,
d. when you skip to a new time, &
e. when you want to produce a dramatic effect.

Some of these breaks may require a new scene, or even a new chapter, but at the least, give us a new paragraph.

4. Action sequences.

Action is usually the most difficult for writers to become proficient in. Time and again the manuscripts I work on will have the heaviest line editing concentrated in action scenes. I start hacking harder when characters do, so here are some rules of thumb.

Less is more. Use fewer words; more words merely gunk up the flow and muddy clarity. Action should be sharp and fast, your words should suit that.

Use only the actions that are necessary to show what is going on and no more. If there is no reason to include an extra dodge, sway, swing, leap, scream or twist, then don’t. Each movement should build off the last and serve to increase the stakes and the tension until the climax and resolution. If it doesn’t, cut it.

Save your big, dynamic action verbs like “slam,” or “jolt,” or “roar” for action scenes. You can only use each a finite amount of times, so save them for when they fit the scene and when they’ll have the most impact.

Anything that slows the tempo doesn’t belong. Tempo is the level of activity within a scene via dialogue, action or a combination of the two. Together with rhythm (the way scenes interact with one another), tempo dictates the pacing of your story.

Pay close attention to that pacing too. Is your story filled with action scene after action scene after action scene? The whole point of an action scene is to get the blood moving, create tension, make readers fear for your characters. It’s easy to make your readers numb by overdoing it. If your tension is getting stale, it is because you’re hitting the same emotional beat too many times. Too much action — but this can be applied to any kind of scene, any emotional beat.

When that’s happening you have to use an opposing beat. So change it up and throw in some romance or mystery. Or mysterious romance. Give readers a rest so they can step back and appreciate your action again. To put it another way, if you love bacon (and you do), and so all you eat is bacon (and you might), you’re going to grow tired of bacon . . . this is a bad example.

With that, I close my hit list to you for now, and leave you to your own devices. But I’ve got my eye on you. My big, bright, baleful, red eye. Go ahead, call me all the bad names you want. I’m here for you.

Joshua Essoe is a full-time, freelance editor. He’s been editing and writing for twenty years in one form or another, but has focused on speculative fiction in the last several. He’s done work for David Farland, Dean Lorey, Moses Siregar and numerous Writers of the Future authors and winners, as well as many top-notch independents.Together with Jordan Ellinger, Diana Rowland and Moses Siregar, you can find him waxing eloquent (hopefully) on the writing podcast Hide and Create.

Information about Superstars Writing Seminars

You may have noticed that quite a few of the posts this month have mentioned Superstars Writing Seminars. There’s a good reason we keep bring up this particular seminar, other than it’s because what all of the Fictorians have in common (we have all attended at least once).  It’s because it’s a darn good conference.

Superstars is a 3-day conference that happens once a year about the business of writing. Kevin J. Anderson and his wife Rebecca Moesta organize the events and are part of the faculty. Brandon Sanderson, James A. Owen, David Farland, and Eric Flint are also faculty and partners. All will be instructors at the upcoming Superstars in February 2014.

What you need to know about Superstars Writing Seminars 2014:

And most importantly, if you are serious your writing career, this seminar is for you.

Click here to register now.

 

How Writing Badly Can Help Your Career

Sounds a bit silly, doesn’t it? But as I’m sure everyone here knows, one of the biggest stumbling blocks for any aspiring author isn’t really how good their book is. It’s how finished their book is.

After all, you can’t have a business without a product, which is, in our cases, a completed story.

The key is to be productive and with just about everyone I know, one of the biggest obstacles to their productivity (right next to the two hour commute or the kids who can’t seem to do anything without parental help) is that voice in their head that keeps popping up to say, “What are you thinking? That comma’s ruining the emotional thread of this scene!” or “Jeez, this is crap. Let’s go play on the Playstation where it at least feels like I’m accomplishing something.”

A recurring session during the Superstars Writing Seminars is Kevin J. Anderson’s productivity tips (which he is currently covering on his website for NaNoWriMo). This is where I first heard his #3 tip: Dare to Be Bad (At First)…Then Fix It.

And the guy must be on to something because he makes prolific authors look lazy.

Now, I do spend some time prewriting to figure stuff out, for the most part I find my story as I’m writing it. For the longest time, I’d get stuck in that loop that made me want to re-read what I’d already written and tweek the text until I had to force myself to move on to the next scene. And then I gave myself permission to write badly. This was incredibly freeing. Now, when I’m doing a first draft, I can write upwards of 20-25k words a week, knowing that I’m going to edit it like crazy once the first draft is done. They aren’t great words, sometimes they’re downright horrendous, but they come together to form a completed work.

Now, your process might be different. But ask yourself, is your book stalled because you keep going back to that one or two scenes that seem so pivotal but your inner editor keeps telling you it’s just not right and if you don’t fix it now the whole book will fail utterly?

Stop that.

A house builder doesn’t sit there working on the same bathroom for years because they can’t get the shower to the perfect dimensions. They have a whole house to build and if someone isn’t living in it, it has no purpose. The same goes for you. Don’t let a desire to write perfection stop you from finishing the book, because if no one reads it, it also has no purpose.

Once the first draft is done, then you can let your inner editor run amuck…somewhat.

I usually have to step away for a bit before diving in the editing/revision process, otherwise, I’m just polishing the punctuation. Some people go ahead and send it out to alpha readers to get feeback. You’re process should be whatever works for you, but the real key to editing your own work, I think, is honesty.

Yes, that scene in your epic fantasy between the hero and his pet parakeet makes you cry every time, but does it move your story forward? Yes, you skipped that escape scene in your adventure to get to the emotional angst, but is the reader still engaged? Yes, you left out the detailed description of your cyborgs in your SF because it slowed the pacing, but can the reader really understand your world?

They may be you and your critique group’s favorite scenes. They might be hard to write. But if the story and the reader isn’t served, be honest. You’re going to have to fix it. The nice thing is that you’ll probably like the result better.

It’s actually kind of funny how often I tell someone that a scene isn’t working, or the story is missing something, and they say, “Yeah, I was kind of thinking that, too.” If something doesn’t ring true, or a scene doesn’t seem right, don’t wait for someone to remind you of something you already know. This instinct might take some time figuring out on your own, but the only way you’re going to learn how to tell what works and what doesn’t, is to keep writing and reading your genre.

It’s all so much work, I know. But that the difference between a hobbiest and a professional: get the work done, then make it the best you possibly can.

Dare to be bad. Fix it later.